Innocently Waiting
by rockxstar
Summary: A young girl tortured, what's she thinking? [Okay, so I'm bad at summaries. Read!]
1. The Beginning

Innocently Waiting Author; Kateh [mee] Disclaimer; I don't own Samara. That's.. obvious; I don't know who /does/ though so.. :D deal.  
  
Tortured. Alone. ..Cursed since birth; how was this her fault? The TV was on.. all the time, it never stopped.. it was like her, it never slept. It kept her company during rainstorms, when thunder crashed above the barn, worrying her and the horses so. It kept her company during daydreams turned to nightmares. During innocence turned to evil. During countless sleepless nights. The horses, too. But the horses were the things that kept her up at night. And they had to die. And they did, one by one.  
  
And she liked it. She liked the pain, suffering.. she liked how everyone spoke her name, Samara, like it was a curse.. perhaps she was. She was nothing else; she just wanted to be heard. She needed to be loved. She needed a real father; Richard hated her for bringing this to the small town. But it wasn't her fault.. 'Yes it is,' a voice in the back of her head mumbled. She got a pained look on her face, bringing her knees up to her chest while she sat on her bed in the barn. It was so cold; the thin white dress she wore hung heavily on her, dirty and covered in hay. It was wearing, she needed new clothes."Mommy loves me," she told herself countless times, ignoring the black hair that hung heavily over her face - tangly, greasy.. ruined, like her life.  
  
Her skin was a deathly pale. She was small, though, fragile.. how could she cause so much death? A picture flashed through her mind, of the horses laying dead on the shore, small waves lapping over their bodies.. it was so clear, and then it was there.. in her hand. Like at the therapist's. She wanted to stop, but.. she couldn't.  
  
And suddenly she wasn't there anymore. No, she was outside, the day was bright and sunny.. she was standing by a well, and suddenly she felt like singing.  
  
It was quite a sight, the girl looked like she'd been in hiding for a month; she still wore her tattered white dress, her hair looked no better than it had before, and her skin was even paler.. the oddest thing was her eyes, though, they held a certian.. evil look to them. And they'd gone darker.  
  
"Round we go the world is spinning, when it stops It's just beginning Sun goes up, we all sigh Sun goes down, we all die."  
  
Her song was cut short, though, when a plastic bag was quickly thrust around her body - it only went to mid-waist but it was enough to make her cry out. Suddenly she was falling, falling, falling.. splash. The well. She was in the well. She clawed at the walls of the well furiously shortly after landing, managing to pull the plastic bag off soon enough to see her mothers face looming above teh still-open well. She cried for her mother.. she could see the tears in Anna's eyes while she slowly slid the lid over. IT was a quarter done.. the light, it was so nessecary.. halfway closed, it was almost gone, "NO!" she screamed as there was only a sliver of light left.. then darkness. She continued to claw at the walls. 'This can't be how it ends.. they'll suffer, all of them, and then they'll be sorry.'  
  
And so it begins.  
  
[Author's Note: My first attempt at a fic, be nicee please. :D um, R/R please!] 


	2. Growing

/b I still don't own any of this. bI know the chapters are short but I have them all written out already and.. thats just how it worked out kthx./b  
  
Chapter Two  
  
She loathed being stuck in the well, but she was betrayed by her mother. But.. sometimes she had a special quest; she had to get out of the well and journey through the TV. There, she could do what she believed now she was made to do: kill.  
  
[Years Earlier: Flashback]  
  
"How did you make these, Samara?" the Doctor questioned, frowning slightly as he watched the young girl pace back and forth, hands behind her back, still in that worn white dress.  
  
"I think them, and they just.. are." she said with a helpless shrug, earning a concerned look from the Doctor.  
  
"That's not possible."  
  
"All I want to do is see Mommy," she said, half-pleading, half-insisting.  
  
"Not until we figure this out."  
  
"But Mommy loves me."  
  
"You'll see her when we're done. How'd these get here?" A few pictures that were clearish, x-rayish types were in his hand, and the pictures were nothing less than disturbing. A few were of horses.. though he knew why. He knew the "history" of the girl.  
  
She looked impatient. "I told you. They just are."  
  
"But-" He was cut short by something, and if it was a movie there would certianly be static.  
  
[End Flashback]  
  
And now there was the tape. Sitting comfortably (or as comfortable as it got in the well), she sighed. She knew she should be dead, but she lived to murder. She was made to murder. The video was key.  
  
See, even if the people who watched it the first time don't die, she won anyway - the only chance of surviving was by making a copy of the tape. And that spread her message - "She just wanted to be heard," like Aidan said.  
  
Aidan. He was much like her. He had a loving mommy but his daddy.. wasn't. And he'd watched the tape. Soon they'd suffer.  
  
Then they'd know.  
  
And then she was climbing out of the well. Where was she going? Who was she going to kill? Her hair hung heavily over her face, back arched slightly, neck bent so she was facing the ground. She couldn't let them see the eye yet; she couldn't let them die yet. Lifting her gaze just slightly, she saw that it was a young man - not Noah or Aidan, but.. someone. She didn't keep track of them; the things just.. happened to them.  
  
An arm was out of the TV. How she longed to live there. A leg. Oh, it was just lovely. Half of her body. It was so refreshing, yet so routine. Then she was out. A scream of terror, movement, he was sitting. He'd fallen into a chair. Perfect. Raising her gaze, an evil smile spread across her lips.  
  
"But I do.. and I'm sorry."  
  
She'd thought she'd spoken the words, but she hadn't. The man looked terrified. He stuttered out, "G-g-g-"  
  
He was gone. Samara's one eye was visible through the hair, and the gaze was focused directly on the man. Hah.. evil won, once more. But she didn't like it.  
  
She didn't like hurting people. She didn't like having people terrified of her. She didn't like the tape. She didn't like the pictures. She didn't like the death, hurting, anger, fear, evil.. she didn't. But it had to be, so it was. That's what she was made for. Made for.. her poor mother, all she wanted was a little baby to care for.. and she got Samara.  
  
And then she drove her mom to madness which progressed to suicide. Her mommy – the one she loved. And she didn't even believe that she was dead. How could she be?  
  
Sometimes Samara was utterly disgusted with herself. She'd grown considerably in that well, the one she died in, but she still felt so childish. The dress seemed to grow with her. She'd gotten used to the wetness of the well, the dampness of reality, the longing for the real world...  
  
but she was dead.  
  
[a/n: REVIEWWWW. 3] 


End file.
